


A Moment Away From the Truth

by skargasm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had both needed a moment away from the truth…in the aftermath of Allison’s death, comfort is taken in unexpected places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment Away From the Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ronniemarie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronniemarie/gifts).



> For Ronnie, to celebrate your good news.
> 
> Never even considered this pairing before so no idea where this came from!
> 
> * * *

It was the shifting of a body on the mattress that made him stir and finally woke him up. For a moment, he felt completely disorientated—his head was aching, as were his shoulder, hips and thighs. The scents around him were familiar yet not and he could feel the panic rising inwardly as he struggled to catalogue where the hell he was without opening his eyes. Opening his eyes meant facing things—acknowledging what had happened and his brain told him that he wasn’t ready to do that. Not after—

“Isaac, I—“ The deep voice caused his eyes to fly open, a deep flush covering his cheeks as he took in everything in seconds. Chris looked completely wrecked—he had bags under his eyes which were clouded with emotional pain. The pain of knowing that she was—that Allison had—

He avoided meeting that gaze, his eyes instead drawn down to the marks and scratches that were so clear. Bruises sucked into the skin of his neck; teeth marks at the base of his throat; scratch marks on his chest. Isaac’s marks. He knew and recognised those marks—he’d made them. During the long night where they struggled with grief and pain and anguish, where they had turned to each other in ways that had **never** occurred to either of them before. But last night it had all become too much—for Isaac, the loss of Derek as his alpha, the pain of everything that was happening to Stiles, the confusion of time lost due to being in hospital. And Allison. The loss of Allison—the look in her eyes as the sword went through her chest; watching her life’s blood draining away, staining her lips as she lay in Scott’s arms and declared her love for him. Isaac felt a little ashamed of how jealous he had felt—that in those final moments, the two of them were reunited as though he and Allison had never been. But he couldn’t blame her for it—the love between Allison and Scott had been something special and everyone knew it. Of course, she had still loved him. What he and she had shared hadn’t reached anywhere near that level and now it never would. 

And Chris. He knew why Chris had turned to him—had chosen to lose himself in Isaac’s body, straining to feel something other than the pain of loss. To lose his wife to the code was bad enough; to lose his father and his sister to their madness devastating; to lose his daughter to the fight just too much for anyone to handle. No matter how much they might be able to compartmentalise. No matter how much he had held it together long enough to prepare and train them in a coherent story for the police; officially identify her body; help them through those initial hours when the devastation froze them in place. 

It hadn’t been intentional—he’d turned to Chris because **he** couldn’t figure out how he was feeling. He’d wanted reassurance; he’d wanted touch and the feel of something _good_ to take away the pain and hurt. He’d healed from the oni’s weapons but the pain was deep inside. His own mini-void from being used by the nogitsune. He’d needed someone to help him fill that void. And Chris had been there and understood.

It had been good—it had been hot and hard, the strong body of a warrior against his own. Hard hands touching him all over, making him feel; lips against his, kisses dragging his body into feeling so that his brain could let go; the heat of another body sinking into his own—discomfort, pain, nothing against the onslaught of pleasure that had taken over. Staring into eyes a clear pale blue that **saw** him—looked past the werewolf to the frightened boy; looked past the physical strength to the need beneath to be held down, possessed—anchored. 

But now that order was restored, normality had returned—things should, _would_ return to what they were. 

“It’s fine.”

“I—“

“We both loved her—we both _needed_ something. Let’s not try to make it anything other than what it was.” He wasn’t even sure he meant the words but he could tell by the look on Chris’s face that they were the right ones. Chris gave him one more assessing look, more than obviously surprised by the words coming from him, then gave a nod and a small smile before slipping quietly out of the room leaving Isaac sat in a not uncomfortable silence. Whatever he was feeling beyond confused, he knew there was too much to be faced at the moment to question any of it. Now was not the time—most definitely not the time. 

Maybe later.

* * *


End file.
